


Anatomy of a Partnership

by magician



Series: Transformations [4]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Challenge Response, Friendship, Gen, Sentinel Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magician/pseuds/magician
Summary: How H and Rafe became partners and friends.





	Anatomy of a Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Sentinel Bingo for the prompt "friends". Although technically this is part of the Transformation series, this story is independent of the others. 
> 
> I posted a small chunk of this story as a writing exercise for the TSCC challenge: write a piece that focuses on dialogue. It's titled "A Promising Start" and I decided to leave it as is instead of trying to incorporate it. As in that story, I'm using "Brian" as Rafe's first name.

Brian Rafe stepped into the Major Crime bullpen, taking a deep breath.   He'd been here before, as a uniformed officer and again as a Detective in the Commercial Crimes Division, but the air smelled different now that he was going to be part of the MC Division.  He couldn't wait to get started.  
  
He'd gotten there early--so early only the third shift personnel were there.  Mark Sanders waved distractedly at him, then turned back to the man who was handcuffed to the chair next to his desk.  Sean Grainger was staring at his computer and seemed oblivious to everything else. Rafe sat down, knowing if he kept standing he'd begin pacing nervously; not the vibe he wanted to project on his first day. He checked his suit, making sure there wasn't a speck of dust on it.  He knew he was over-dressed, but he wanted to make a good impression on his new Captain.  
  
Speak of the devil, Simon Banks walked in, but "stormed in" described it better.  He sailed right past Brian as if he hadn't noticed him, opening the door to his office and putting down his briefcase.  With the blinds open, Brian could observe his movements.  Banks went immediately to his personal coffee machine and started a brew.  Then he removed his coat, carefully draping it on a hanger.  Brian admired how Banks dressed.  He was a large man, in great shape.  He obviously had to have his clothes tailored and he always looked first class, which is why Brian couldn't understand how he let his subordinates dress so sloppily. Next, he pulled folders from his briefcase and arranged them on his desk.  
  
A gurgle from the coffee maker alerted Banks, and he went over and poured himself a cup, drinking it immediately.  He set it down on his desk and poked his head out of the office, signaling Brian to enter.    
  
Banks walked back to the coffee maker with his cup. "Coffee?" he asked, holding up the carafe.  
  
"Just black, please, sir," Rafe responded.  He didn't care for coffee but knew Banks did.  "This is smooth," he complimented after taking a sip. "Is it Kenyan?"  
  
Banks looked surprised.  "It's actually a blend of Kenyan and Tanzanian beans.  You've got a good palate." He sat down behind his desk, indicating Rafe should sit as well.  "I've been looking over your file.  Very impressive.  You received excellent ratings on your last three reviews and you have a reputation for going on the initiative.  I like that.  You should fit in well here.  I know Captain Reynolds was sorry to lose you."  
  
Brian shrugged. "With the merging of departments, we ended up overstaffed.  As low man on the totem pole, I got the boot." Noticing the Captain's frown, he quickly added, "Although I can't say that I'm sorry about it, sir.  Becoming part of the Major Crime squad, especially with my lack of seniority, is a real honor."  
  
Banks nodded.  "Now, we need to assign you to a partner.  You know that partnerships take some doing, so don't feel that this is permanent. It'll depend on how things work out between you.  I'm pairing you with Henri Brown."  
  
Rafe felt his stomach drop.  "Brown, sir?  I thought I'd be paired with Ellison, since he doesn't have a partner."  Everyone knew Ellison preferred to work alone, but Brian was sure he could change that.  His case closure rate and go-get-'em attitude matched Ellison's stride for stride, despite their age and experience differences.  He was sure their partnership would outshine everyone.  
  
Banks shook his head.  "Ellison doesn't want a permanent partner, although you might work with him occasionally.  Brown's partner just transferred to Chicago to be closer to his family, which is why we have an opening and why he needs a partner." He looked straight at Brian.  "Is that going to be a problem?"  
  
And there it was.  Because Rafe's family was from South Africa, and he spent his childhood there, people assumed he'd be prejudiced against blacks.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  His small hometown was an hour outside Pretoria, but it might as well have been a Toronto suburb for all apartheid mattered there; he'd had many friends of assorted shapes and colors.  Soccer was the great equalizer; if you could play well it didn't matter if you were black, white or purple - you were accepted. "No, sir, not at all," Brian answered, looking Banks straight in the eye.  
  
Banks held his gaze for another few seconds, then nodded.  "He should be in soon.  He'll catch you up on your current cases.  I expect one or the other of you to keep me updated.  New cases are assigned on rotation, depending on how heavy your workload is."  He stood up and held out his hand.  "Welcome aboard, Detective."  Rafe shook his hand firmly then left the office.    
  
*****  
  
The bullpen was still virtually empty, so Brian walked out the door and strolled the floor, inspecting the break room and stopping in the men's room to check his hair and straighten his tie.  By the time he returned, Henri Brown was at his desk.  Brown looked up and smiled, waving Rafe over.  
  
It wasn't his color that bothered Rafe; it was his style.  Brown tended to wear Hawaiian shirts, bright enough to make Rafe wince. His jokes ranged from corny to porny and he told them in a loud, boisterous voice.  Rafe was as meticulous about his body as his clothes; he hit the gym three times a week, played handball and jogged.  Brown was carrying extra pounds, especially around the waist.  Rafe uncharitably thought about how useless he would be in a foot chase.  Still, now that they were assigned, he'd have to make the best of it.  Sabotaging the partnership wouldn't win him any medals; on the contrary, his reputation would suffer.    
  
Brian pasted on a smile and walked over to Brown's desk, sticking out his hand. Henri shook it warmly. "I know we've nodded at each other before. I'm Henri Brown, but most people call me H."  
  
"First name's Brian, but most people call me Rafe."  
  
"That works for me," H answered, then indicated the desk next to his own. "This is your new desk.  It's cleaned out and your email account is already set up on the computer."  
  
That reminded Brian that he was replacing someone.  "I was sorry to hear about your partner.  It must be hard to lose him."  
  
"Yeah, we were together for two years." Henri shrugged and sat in his chair. "What're you gonna do? Family's important."  He looked at Rafe. "How about you?  Do you have family?"  
  
Rafe sighed and sat down as well.  He really didn't want to get into this, but he couldn't figure a way around talking about it.  "Not a lot, no," he replied.  My parents split up when I was ten.  I came to the U.S. with my dad.  I have an uncle who lives in New York with his wife and my two cousins."  
  
"And your mom?"  
  
"She still lives in South Africa.  She remarried about ten years ago, but I've only met him a few times. They moved to Johannesburg."  
  
H leaned back in his chair, giving him an assessing look.  "Are you gonna have any trouble working with me, you know, because I'm black?"  
  
Rafe shook his head.  "Not at all.  I lived in a small town--not much more than a village.  When you live in a place that small, there's no room for rules that keep people apart."  Rafe stared at him. "Ask around.  I've worked with people of all colors and backgrounds on the street and in Commercial."  
  
H straightened up in his chair and reached out to slap Rafe on the shoulder.  "Already did, babe. You've got a great rep.  I just needed to hear it from you--before you take me on as a partner." H picked up a pile of files. "So, let's get started.  Here are the cases we've got. Let me catch you up."  
  
It took a couple of hours for them to go over the cases.  Rafe asked insightful questions and H pulled out a notepad and scribbled down a list of things to do.  Henri locked up the files in his desk and stood up.  "Okay, pard, let's go see some of these witnesses.  But first, lunch."  
  
*****  
  
Langer's Deli would not have been Rafe's first pick, but he had to admit the pastrami on pumpernickel was delicious; their homemade mustard was sharp and their pickles were crisp.  As he ate, he listened to Henri talk about his family.  He was engaged to a woman he'd dated in college. He and Sharice had kept in touch after she relocated to the University of Texas to get her MBA in business.  Although she had a lot of family in Texas, she'd actually missed the Cascade climate and moved back.  They reconnected and planned to be married.  
  
"Does Sharice work?" Rafe asked.  
  
H laughed.  "Yeah, she's got a great job.  You're not going to believe it.  She works for Ellison Enterprises."  
  
"Ellison?  Any relation to…"  
  
H nodded.  "Yeah, his dad's company.  I bet you didn't know Jim came from money, huh?"  
  
Rafe shook his head.  Ellison tended to be close-mouthed about anything except work and sports.  
  
Brown nodded again.  "Yeah, he keeps pretty quiet about his family.  Anyway, she's running the new renovations in Southtown."  
  
"Wow, I'd heard that's supposed to revitalize the whole area.  Pretty impressive.  Does Ellison know?"  
  
Henri nodded.  "Oh, yeah, of course.  We don't really discuss it, but I had to let him know."  He wrapped up the remains of his lunch and stood up to bus his tray.  "Ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah," Rafe replied, taking a last drink of his iced tea.  "Where to?"  
  
*****  
  
Henri was driving them to interview a potential witness, Martha Wells.  Although her preliminary report to the responding officer didn't identify her as a person of interest, H told Rafe that Martha had been a good friend of Candy Kane, aka Sara Kelley, the latest victim of what they were now sure was a serial killer.   Martha had reported her friend as missing after Sara had failed to show up for lunch at a restaurant and didn't answer her phone. Henri was sure Martha knew more than she was saying. He hoped talking to her in her own environment would help her relax enough to give them a new lead.  
  
As they stepped onto the front porch of the small house where Martha lived, Brian was taken aback by loud screaming.  He assumed the female voice was Martha, but there was a male voice yelling as well.  _Great,_ he thought, _a domestic_.   Just then, the female voice changed from anger to fear. "Help! He's going to kill me!" Before Henri could stop him, Brian banged on the front door, calling out, "Open up! Cascade PD!"  
  
"Shit!" Henri hissed and yanked Brian towards him to get him away from the front door.  A second later there was a loud bang and a bullet splintered the wooden door, putting a hole in the screen where Brian had been standing.  Both men drew their weapons.  
  
"Listen," Henri said softly. "There's no time to call for backup, so here's what we're gonna do.  He's already heard you. Go back behind that tree," he said, pointing at a large elm tree on the sidewalk. "I'm going to be over on the side of the house, so he won't see me.  Identify yourself again and tell him to come out. He'll probably use her as a shield.  Try to get him to drop his weapon.  If he doesn't, between us we'll get that sucker."  
  
Brian nodded, still a little shaken by the shot and embarrassed by his mistake.  He ducked down to make sure he wasn't seen through the window and went behind the elm.  "I say again," he yelled loudly. "This is the Cascade PD. Whoever you are, come out with your hands up. If you surrender, you will not be harmed."  
  
There was silence for about thirty seconds, then the front door opened.  Rafe aimed his weapon and waited. Henri did the same.  The screen door was kicked open, eliciting a woman's scream that was quickly cut off. A large man emerged, holding a woman in front of him. He had his arm around her neck and was pointing a gun at her head.   She was clutching at his arm ineffectively, crying, saying "please, please…".    
  
"Shut up!" he said to her, giving her a shake.  She continued to cry silently.  
  
"Let her go and put the gun down!" Rafe commanded, holding his gun with both hands, straight-armed, aiming directly at the man's head.    
  
"You put your gun down," he screamed, "or I swear I'll kill her!" He tightened his arm around her neck, lifting her up to emphasize he meant business. She screamed and he choked her off, turning his head to yell at her, at the same time dropping his gun hand just slightly. "Shut up, you bitch!"  
  
"Hey, that ain't no way to talk to your woman," H said, his gun pressed to the base of the man's skull.  "Let her go or I'll blow your head right off," he said in his deadliest tone.  
  
The man tensed for a moment, and H pushed his gun a little harder to his head.  He then released the woman and held his hands away from his body, his gun pointing down.  H grabbed his gun and stepped back.  "Get down on your stomach and put your hands behind your back."  The man complied.    
  
The woman started to move, and H addressed her.  "Stay put, ma'am. You could still be in danger here." She froze and nodded.  
  
H walked around so the man could see him.  "Now, my partner is going to cuff you.  You make any move -- _any_ move -- and I'll consider that resisting arrest.  I understand a bullet in the leg can be extremely painful.  You got me?"    
  
The man grunted, but otherwise stayed still.  Brian cuffed him, pulled him to his feet and read him his rights.  Someone must have called 911 when the shot was fired, because two patrol cars pulled up. Brian had a bad moment, realizing that he and H were in plain clothes, but the uniforms recognized H immediately and one of them had worked with Brian.    
  
The four uniforms consulted with the detectives. One of them took possession of the man and his gun, depositing him in a cruiser.  Another started taking preliminary statements from the neighbors who had gathered to watch the show.  A third got out a camera and began taking pictures of the house. The fourth accompanied H to talk with the woman.  
  
"Are you okay, Ms. Wells?" H asked gently.  She nodded, although a little unsteadily.  "Those are some pretty nasty bruises around your neck. Officer Henley is going to take you to the ER to get you checked out."  
  
"No!" she cried out, then said in a lower voice, "I can't afford it. I don't have insurance."  
  
H patted her on the shoulder.  "Don't you worry about that.  You're a crime victim.  You won't be charged.  We need to make sure you're okay." At her nod, he asked, "Who is that man?"  
  
She looked at the patrol car and spat on the ground. "My ex," she answered.  "He just got out of jail and was looking for money.  He wanted to pawn my jewelry." Her hand moved compulsively to her neck, clutching an ornate jeweled cross that was obviously a family heirloom.  She closed her eyes and sighed with relief.  
  
"Well, he's going back to jail, Ms. Wells, and we're going to have a doctor check you out.  We'll need pictures, too, to charge your ex." She nodded.  "After you're done at the hospital, Officer Henley will bring you to the station.  I came out here to talk to you about Sara," he continued, looking her in the eye.  
  
Her expression changed to fear. "I told you before--"  
  
"I know what you told me," he said gently, "and I know you're scared.  We're just trying to catch her killer.  Maybe prevent someone else from getting killed.  Perhaps you can remember something that can help us." She nodded, and H gestured to Brian to come over.  "This is my new partner.  His name is Brian Rafe.  He's a good detective and has a great reputation for solving cases.  He's going to help me find that scum that killed Sara."  
  
Brian shook Martha's hand. "I'm sorry for the loss of your friend, Ms. Wells. We're putting all our energy to solving her murder."  
  
"Thank you," she replied. Officer Henley touched her arm and guided her to the other patrol car.  
  
Henri and Brian talked to the other officers, making sure that the house was secure until Forensics came to collect evidence.    
  
"So, what's next?" Brian asked.  
  
"Well, we're going to have to go back to the precinct to do the paperwork on this new crime. And I'm sure Simon's already heard about it, so he'll want to know what went down."  
  
"He already knows? How?"  
  
"Oh, he's got radar.  Anything happens with his people and he wants to know right away.  My theory is he's got a gossip network going among the uniforms." Brian snorted.  "Anyway, he'll want a debrief.  However…" H said, grinning, "since I'm a big believer in killing two birds with one stone, I think we should wait and talk to Martha. That way, we've done some work on our official case. And since she'll probably be at ER for a while," H continued, giving Brian a big grin and a slap on the back, "I think we should grab some coffee and do a little debriefing ourselves.  I'll even let you pick the place!"  
  
The Grind House was just the sort of coffee shop Henri would normally pass up as over-hyped and overpriced and he inwardly winced when Rafe had suggested it. Their claim to fame in a city with an abundance of coffee shops was that they served single-origin coffees, ground and brewed fresh to your order.  Rafe ordered him a sampler of three demitasse cups of French-pressed coffee, one each from Timor, Guatemala and Burundi.  He took a deep sniff of each at Rafe's urging before tasting them.  He was impressed with the differences even his uneducated palate could detect.  
  
"Wow, I can't believe how different coffee can taste. I'm never going back to Folger's!"  
  
Rafe smiled as he sipped his Masala Chai and signaled the server to put a plate of pastries in front of H.  "Monica got her pastry arts diploma from the Ducasse Academy in France. These are the best croissants you'll get outside of Paris." After Henri took a large bite out of one and moaned in delight, Rafe looked down at his cup and cleared his throat.  "I'm sorry about what happened today. I was an idiot to stand at that door, pounding away.  I could have gotten us both killed."  
  
Henri did him the courtesy of not disagreeing.  "Have you had much experience with domestics?"  
  
Rafe shook his head. "I focused on passing the Detective exam, so I didn't spend much time in Patrol and most of that was with Traffic. Lots of speeding tickets, some accidents and DUIs and one carjacking.  While I was studying for the exam, I got passed around to different divisions, doing gofer work and trying to get experience." He looked at Henri.  "I guess I didn't get enough," he said softly. "There weren't any domestic violence cases in Commercial Crimes."    
  
H reached over and gave Brian's arm a light tap. "Hey, we walked away without a scratch, and that's a good day in my book.  You'll never stop learning, but, for now, you might want to lean on your partner a little for some additional wisdom, eh?"  Rafe nodded. "So, let's wrap this up, whaddya say?"  Rafe nodded again.  
  
*****  
  
It was almost 8 pm when Henri and Brian finally exited Simon's office. At the hospital, Martha Wells was so grateful to be saved from her common-law husband that she revealed what she knew. Sara was having trouble with her pimp; she'd decided to quit the life and go back home. When the first beating hadn't changed her mind, he got carried away and killed her.  Armed with a warrant, they discovered the gun he'd used to bash her head in, hoping to emulate what he'd read in the papers about the other murders.  So, their serial killer was still on the streets, but a vicious pimp-turned-murderer was behind bars and Sara would get justice.  
  
Banks listened to Brian's account of the incident at the Wells' house  
  
"Any situation where you can walk away unharmed is a good one," Simon said, echoing Henri's earlier sentiment.  "All right, good job on getting Wells to open up.  Copy in Homicide and then go home.  Tomorrow you can start fresh on the serial killer case."  Simon turned to Henri.  "You all right?"  
  
H nodded, understanding Simon's unspoken question of whether he wanted to continue the partnership.  "Yeah, we're fine, Captain.  We'll finish up any loose ends on this one, then get back to our cases."  
  
"All right, gentlemen, let's get out of here."  And with that dismissal, Simon stood and reached for his coat.  Henri and Rafe locked up their desks and walked out.  
  
*****  
  
During the next few days, Rafe settled into the MC squad, charming Rhonda with sweet talk and vaniljkakor cookies from Swenson's bakery. He also officially met Ellison's "unofficial" partner and shook hands with Sandburg, feeling only a touch of resentment at how comfortably he and Ellison seemed to work together.    
  
He put the resentment on the back burner when Sandburg came to him later in the day. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Blair asked hesitantly.  
  
Rafe nodded. Blair looked back at Jim, causing Rafe to look as well. Ellison gave Sandburg a "go on" nod.  
  
"Jim told me about the serial killer case you and H are working on," Blair began.  "I, uh, had a little time and I'd heard about this experimental profiling program from one of the Criminology professors over at Rainier." He swallowed.  "I plugged in all the victims' info, as well as any other data I had, like time the murders took place, where, etc." He stopped, then thrust a paper at Rafe.  "Here's what the program turned out.  I don't know how accurate it will be, but maybe the description will jive with someone you suspect? You know, want to take another look at?"  He stopped again as Rafe reached out to take the paper and stare at it.  "Well, okay, then," Blair said, and walked back to Jim's desk.  Ellison gave Blair's shoulder a light punch, then they put their heads together over something on Jim's desk.  
  
*****  
  
Henri walked in, carrying take-out from Langer's Deli, to find his new partner poring over every file in their serial murder case. Rafe stopped to scribble something and then to look at something on his computer.  "What's up, Bri?" H asked.  
  
Rafe looked up, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "I think we've got something, H.  Look at this." With that he pointed out that each of the women worked part time for a janitorial service. Brian discovered that the night manager was Phillip Behr, someone who coincidentally had been in jail for assaulting his girlfriend several years before.  "Look at this description--it fits Behr almost exactly."  
  
Lunch forgotten, Henri looked from the paper to Behr's information, including his rap sheet and background and whistled. "I think we have enough for a warrant.  Let's go see Simon."  As Rafe stood up and gathered all his paperwork, H gave his back a slap. "What, did you get a bolt from the blue?  How did you put that together?"  
  
Rafe shrugged.  "A bolt from somewhere.  You're not going to believe it." With that they knocked on Simon's door and entered on the Captain's gruff command.  
  
*****  
  
By the time they got warrants for Behr's home and Clean as a Whistle Janitorial Services, it was night and they suspected he'd be at work.  H requested a patrol car to watch Behr's home; they confirmed that the place was dark and appeared to be unoccupied.  
  
Knowing they were dealing with a potential serial killer with a propensity toward violence, they came with plenty of back up.  Henri entered the front door. As Behr looked up and saw Brown with a uniformed cop, he didn't even try to bluff it out--he turned and ran out the back door.  "Coming your way," H said into his walkie-talkie as they followed Behr at a run.  
  
Behr slammed open the back door, where he was met by Rafe's gun in his face. Two more uniforms had their guns also trained on him.  His shoulders slumped, and he put his hands in the air.  Minutes later, he was headed to the precinct in the back of a cruiser, while Rafe and Brown executed their search warrant.  
  
*****  
  
Jim Ellison walked into the Major Crime bullpen, nodding at Barry Reynolds, the third shift detective.  Reynolds was clutching his coffee cup and heading to the break room.  Jim shook his head, glad that he didn't work off-shift regularly.  The times he'd had to cover shifts due to illness or do late-night stakeouts wreaked havoc on his sleep patterns for weeks after.  He headed to his desk just as Simon's door opened.  Henri and Rafe came out, looking disheveled.  
  
"Gentlemen," Jim said, smirking slightly. "I don't think there's enough Old Spice to cover your eau du sweat. Phew," he added, waving his hand in front of his nose.  
  
"Laugh it up, Ellison," H shot back, wearing a big grin. "But we solved two -- count 'em two -- big cases, plus got a wife-beater off the street, and all before breakfast.  We can shower later."  
  
Jim gave him an "I'm impressed" face. "I'm impressed. Congratulations.  Look's like you've got a good partnership going."  
  
H and Rafe grinned at each other.  "Oh, hey," Rafe said. "Where's Sandburg?   I wanted to thank him for that program he gave me.  It really helped us pinpoint the serial killer."  
  
"Blair's at Rainier all day today but I'll make sure to tell him.  I know he'll be excited to hear it."  
  
H slapped Rafe on the back.  "Well, we've got to celebrate our first closures.  What about meeting at Kelly's tonight for drinks?"  
  
"Um, I'm not a big drinker." Rafe replied, then hesitated.  "Maybe, instead, we could have a get-together at my place?  I just moved in and I've got a new barbecue with a smoker.  I've been looking for an excuse to try it out." He looked hopefully at H. "You could bring Sharice." He turned to Jim. "Since he helped us, I'd like Sandburg to be there too. Oh, and you, too--"  
  
"Hey, you all," H announced to the room. "Party at Brian's place tomorrow to celebrate our first win as partners." There was a general cheer from all present and H slapped a stunned Brian on the back. "Put together the details, babe, so we all know where to show up."  
  
Brian nodded.  Just then, Simon walked out of his office. "Captain," he began, "tomorrow…" he hesitated, wondering whether it was appropriate to ask Simon to the impromptu party.  
  
"Sounds great, Rafe," Simon answered jovially, then raised his voice. "What can I bring?  Make sure these goldbrickers bring something to the party."  Immediately the rest of the squad crowded around Brian, asking what they could contribute.  
  
*****  
  
Brian looked around his townhouse, debris of a successful party evidenced in every room and the yard.  He inwardly winced at the mess but thought philosophically that the gathering did a lot to cement his position as a member of Major Crime, every bit as much as successfully closing cases.  
  
Everyone was gone except Henri.  Sharice came but had to leave early when she received an urgent call from one of the Southtown contractors.  Sandburg arrived with Ellison (Rafe hadn't realized they'd lived together) and after dessert insisted on doing at least rudimentary clean-up.  As he cheerfully rummaged around for Tupperware to store the leftovers, Blair entertained Rafe with some of the more unusual foods he'd eaten on expeditions.  Jim picked up paper plates, napkins and cups, throwing everything in a trash bag, but putting bottles and cans in a box for recycling, at Sandburg's insistence.  Rafe briefly wondered how close they actually were but decided he could pump H for that information later.  When Sandburg finally ordered Ellison to find the vacuum, Rafe called a halt to their help, thanking them but firmly insisting they sit down with the rest of the guests.  
  
Banks had made an obligatory stop, admiring Rafe's place and asking questions about financing and how Rafe decided on that particular neighborhood.  Rafe watched as his boss joked easily with his men, admiring how he separated social and business interactions. Banks stayed until dessert and coffee were served, then begged off, explaining that he had to meet his son. The rest of the group settled down to watch a game. Even the Jags losing didn't dampen the mood.  They'd all cheerfully left after the final whistle, everyone assuring Brian it was a hell of a party.  
  
*****  
  
"Well, that went well," Brian said, handing Henri a bottle of Moosehead and opening a ginger ale for himself.    
  
"That's an understatement.  You sure know how to throw a housewarming."  H looked around, taking a pull of his beer.  "Tell me something. How can you afford this place?"  
  
Rafe was momentarily taken aback; in his family they didn't discuss money. He shrugged.  "My dad's parents left me an inheritance.  I figured putting a down payment on this place was a good use of it.  I hated renting. It's a waste of money and your home is never yours, you know?"  
  
Henri nodded. "Yeah.  Sharice and I are talking about buying once we get married.  I've been putting away a chunk of my paycheck toward our house fund."  
  
"Is that the chunk you don't use to buy decent clothes?" Rafe teased with a sly smile.  
  
Henri chuckled.  "Nah, you just don't appreciate my fashion sense.  You're way too conservative."  
  
"I take pride in my appearance," Rafe objected.  "It says who I am."  
  
Henri laughed harder. "Yeah, babe.  What it's going to say is you're a chump, after you ruin enough clothes chasing after perps."  
  
Rafe winced, thinking about the shoes he'd had to toss.  "Well, the mortgage payments will definitely cut into my clothing budget," he said looking around.  "But this place is worth it."  
  
They walked out to the backyard and sat in the Adirondack chairs on the patio.  "So," Henri asked, "what do you do for fun?"  
  
"Running, handball, going to the movies," Rafe hesitated. "Bowling," he added quietly.  
  
"Bowling? You're kidding?  I _love_ bowling.  A group of us get together at the Lucky Strike Lanes every Thursday, as often as I can make it. You should come."  
  
Before Brian could answer, Henri's phone rang. "Yeah, babe, still here. … Everything turn out okay? … All right, I'll meet you at home. … Love ya." He rang off and turned to Brian.  "I guess I'd better get going.  Sharice sounded pretty whipped."  He retrieved his jacket from the front closet.  "Great party, Bri. This was a great idea." He slapped Brian on the back. "See you Monday, partner."  
  
Brian locked the door and looked around the room.  Not too bad a mess, all things considered. He made a mental list of what he'd have to do to get everything back to normal and decided some of it could wait until tomorrow.  _Partner,_ he thought, smiling as he got out the vacuum.  He stopped and picked up the phone and dialed.  "Michael?" he asked, "Hey, can we change our handball game to another day? … Yeah, something's come up and Thursdays won't work. … Thanks, see you Tuesday." He smiled and plugged in the vacuum and started cleaning.  
  
~~the end~~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Aly for alpha-ing this into submission. Thanks, doll.


End file.
